


Daggers In Their Hands

by Blink23



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-22
Updated: 2014-04-22
Packaged: 2018-01-20 09:09:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1504754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blink23/pseuds/Blink23
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cesc transfers from Arsenal to Real Madrid and all hell breaks loose.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Daggers In Their Hands

**Author's Note:**

> Something I wrote for the kink meme a long, long time ago, then edited so it would make sense now. The title comes from a Ray Hudson quote: "Los Blancos and Blaugrana: eternal enemies, daggers in their hands."

“This is what you want.”

It's not exactly a question but Cesc nods anyway, his lip sucked into his mouth. Carlo stares at him, leaning back in his chair and folding his hands in his lap.

“Another Culé in Real Madrid white,” Perez is smiling, “I wonder what the press will have to say about this.”

Cesc can't help the annoyed snort that he lets out, and Ancelotti laughs. It's only 9am on a Monday and there's no press here, just the three of them and Zizou, and he's grateful that they allowed him that one request. Perez has been gleeful since the idea was presented to him, and Cesc can say he honestly surprised he didn't throw some massive press event so he could be petty and rub it all in Barcelona's face. Instead he signs the last of his contracts and shakes hands with everyone and leaves. 

That's it: He's now a Madridista.

He's excited for the move, excited to be back in Spain, but he still feels nervous, and if he thinks about it for too long he knows he'll vomit. He did that quite a bit when he was back in London, packing up his things and the life he had lead for the last nine years into boxes, and before that when he was working through the transfer paperwork with his agent and Arsene. 

Iker is sitting against the floor in training gear, waiting for him. He kicks his boots and Iker looks up from his phone, smiling when he sees it's him.

“You have me for four years.”

Iker nods and pushes himself up from the floor before sliding his phone into his pocket. “You okay?”

Cesc shrugs and Iker grips his wrists and pulls him close. He presses his face to his shoulder and breathes, taking in the scent of grass and soap and Iker, and lets himself go boneless against him, just to get himself to stop trembling.

“I thought I would be more upset, leaving Arsenal,” He mumbles against his shirt, “I think I would be, if it wasn't for you.”

Iker laughs softly and kisses his ear, “You would be in the blaugrana if it wasn't for me. I doubt you would be all that upset to be leaving if it was that way.”

“I just wish I didn't feel so guilty. I don't even want to think about what everyone who plays for Barca is thinking right now, and they do know about us and why I did this. Geri's going to kill me, and-”

“Why don't you go home?” Iker kisses his forehead, “Just relax, do whatever. I'll be back after practice. And don't worry about Piqué, he'll get over it.”

Cesc nods and Iker kisses him softly on the mouth before turning away, wandering back to the locker room. Cesc turns in the opposite direction, heading for the parking lot.

Cesc would never admit it, but the fact that he can now even have a home with Iker makes his stomach flip pleasantly. He's not sure if he can ever find it in his heart to love Real Madird like he loves Barcelona or Arsenal, but he loves waking up to Iker's face every morning and curling up with him and the dogs to watch trashy TV when there's nothing to do and falling asleep with Iker next him in their own bed. He might not love Real Madrid, but for Iker Real Madrid is an extension of himself and he loves Iker with everything he has in him so maybe that's enough.

 

His first official practice isn't until next week Monday, so they spend most of the week doing nothing but avoiding the news and Cesc's phone. He does check once, and finds out he has 48 voicemails and close to two hundred missed texts. He looks through the texts from his family and agent and responds to a message from Bojan ('Can you please tell Geri to shut up about your transfer? I don't want to hear about it anymore') but doesn't feel like dealing with anyone else and throws it back into the table on his side of the bed and closes the drawer without checking his voicemail.

Sara stops by on Thursday and drags them out to dinner. She insists that if she's playing Iker's girlfriend she has to be seen with him, and Cesc's reminded how much he loves her for putting up with all this for the two of them. When he says this to her after she makes Iker go upstairs and put on something presentable she just smiles.

“It's nice, actually,” she tells him, fiddling with the ends of her hair, “Dating without any of the pressure or fighting because it's not real. I don't mind it, for now at least.”

He still knows she's sacrificing a lot and when he thanks her again she kisses his cheek and tells him that as long as she gets the first interview when they come out she doesn't care.

Paparazzi are worse than usual but once inside the restaurant everyone is nice, congratulating and wishing him well. Esteban and Canales appear by coincidence just before they're about to order and they sit together. Cesc watches Esteban watch Sergio's every move as he talks about Sociedad with Iker and how his visit back to Madrid has been and Cesc makes a mental note to ask Iker about that later.

Iker holds his hand under the table through the whole meal and Cesc realizes he could get used to this.

 

On Friday Cesc comes back from his first interview as an official member of Real Madrid tired even though it's barely noon. Iker's home from practice and on the phone, looking more and more angry as he listens to someone on the other side of the line, and Cesc sits next to him on the couch and laces their fingers together.

“Oh fuck off, Xavi,” He finally spits, “You know that all he would be doing there would be sitting on the bench.” Xavi says something and Iker scoffs, “You think I forced him into doing this? He did this because he wanted to. He decided this and asked how I would feel about it, but he was the one that came up with it.”

Iker huffs, “Whatever, are we done? Good.”

Iker tosses his phone onto the coffee table and lets go of his hand so he can cross his arms against his chest.

Cesc picks at his nails. ”I guess it didn't go over too well?”

“They think I forced you into this. Like I gave you some ultimatum, 'come to Madrid or find a new boyfriend.'”

“What?” He was expecting them to hate him, not Iker, “Why?”

“I don't know! Apparently Piqué's convinced them all that I'm some possessive jerk and you're still pure and innocent.”

Cesc snorts, “That's bullshit. They know did this for myself and for us. And Geri should know I'm anything but pure.”

Iker's jaw clenches, his throat working, and Cesc rolls his eyes. Iker has a jealous streak a mile wide, and Gerard's always been a sore spot. He was Cesc's first when they were teenagers, when Iker was just someone they read about in football magazines and hated for being so talented for the enemy. He was also the only man other than Iker, which is something Iker has a problem with. He sees Cesc as his, has for the last few years, and the fact that Pique has something of Cesc he can't drives him nuts. 

“Maybe this wasn't the best idea.”

Cesc kisses him.

“Do you still love me? Want me around for forever like you promised?”

Iker nods, and Cesc smiles before kissing his cheek.

“Then it's worth it.”

 

Iker drives him to practice on Monday morning, their fingers laced over the center console in his car. Cesc's not nervous (He's really not) but it still feels good, still calms him down to have Iker there. He won't be there in the locker room with him as he has a meeting with Silvino first thing, and it's only when Iker parts from him with a kiss that he starts to feel uncomfortable (not nervous).

His locker is in between Sami's and Pepe's and he feels a strange fluttering in his stomach that he can't put a name to when he sees his things in it.

“Ooooh, the Culé.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Cesc rolls his eyes at Cristiano, “And you're the Manc wanker. Whatever.”

Cristiano just laughs and pats him on the back. Most of the team comes and says hello as he's getting dressed and lacing his boots, even Gareth, which surprises him. 

“Sergio said your Spanish was terrible,” he explains, and he nods.

“I practice over the summer. Last years it wasn't so good, and I am glad it still gets the better.”

“Never,” Marcelo comes and wraps himself around him from behind, grinning, “We like your shitty Spanish just the way it is. What the fuck else are we supposed to make fun of you for?” He kisses his cheek and Gareth swats him away, laughing and blushing.

“Shut up.”

“Aw, don't be like that, monkey boy!”

Cris cackles, and Gareth throws a balled up sock at his head. They all stumble out of the locker room like that, smacking and chasing each other and Marcelo jumps on Cristiano's back and makes him carry him and Cesc feels like he's five years old and playing with the neighborhood kids.

“Is it always like this?” he asks Sami, who's fallen instep next to him.

“Mostly yes,” Sami shrugs, watching as Pepe picks Morata up and swings him over his shoulder, “Usually with more hand holding though.”

 

Soon enough it's time for his first match and he's actually nervous this time. It's strange, though; he's not nervous to be playing for Madrid, he's nervous to be playing for La Liga.

“What if things are different?” He asks Isco, who's sitting next to him on the bus, “What if I'm not used to playing like this and I fuck up?”

He shrugs, “You get used to it. If you don't play that well your first match, they'll probably think you only know how to play beautiful football, not the stuff we play.”

Isco grins, and Cesc laughs.

 

There's a crisp, white jersey hanging in his locker, FABREGAS above his number in black letters. He stops dead in his tracks when he sees it, all the air leaving his lungs, Like he's just realized this is real, he's playing for Real Madrid.

“Come on then,” Cristiano grins prods him in the side, “Put it on.” 

Iker watches, smiling warmly at him from a few lockers away as he slides it over his head, smoothes down the front of the shirt with trembling hands.

The crest feels heavy on him, but he knows he can bear it. 

They win their match 4-1.

 

After that the world becomes a blur of matches, practices and interviews. They continue to win, the play their hearts out, but still trail Barcelona by one or two points. Everyone wants to ask him about what it feels like to be behind Barca when he could be (should be) playing for them, and he tries to answer as politely as he possibly can without saying anything negative about either team. 

He keeps on working, getting better, falling in with the team, but the goals won't come. He doesn't know what's wrong, if it's a psychological thing or what, but he racks up 7 assists and the goals just won't happen.

“It's a Barca thing,” Sergio teases one night when some of guys from the team go out for dinner, “You think about scoring for us and the Barca DNA acts up and won't let you do it. We just have to get rid of it.”

“How am I supposed to do that huh?”

“I don't know. Let Iker bone you some more.”

Cesc chokes on his drink. “What?”

“He has a point,” Jesé interjects, laughing, “Iker is like... the face of madridismo. His sperm probably has healing powers that will rid you of any Barcelona DNA bullshit.”

“Seriously,” Sergio's grinning, “You're both clean, and you can't get pregnant, so no need for a condom. Just let Iker go to town and you'll be scoring goals in no time.”

“That's... what?”

Sergio laughs, “Don't act like a blushing virgin Cescito. Our hotel rooms shared a wall during the World Cup, remember? That night we won we were convinced he was going to break the bed the way he was fucking you into the mattress. You should've seen Jesus blush and stammer every time you would scream.”

Cesc sets his head down on the table and wonders why he ever decided playing for this team was a good idea.

 

In October everyone finds out Esteban made his move on Canales and everyone teases the shit out of him for it when they play Sociedad on the 22nd. Iker gets sick, down with an ear infection and head cold, and Cesc spends a week taking care of him, feeding him medicine and making him soup. It makes him feel silly, but he loves it, just another reminder of why he left London for Madrid. They start spending Sundays off naked in bed and Cesc starts stealing Iker's thick, ugly sweaters when the weather gets cold. He goes shopping for groceries with one on one day and it ends up in the gossip magazines that Iker's fashion sense is having a negative effect on him and he giggles about it until Iker tells him to shut up.

They play their Champions League match against Dortmund at the end of the month and beat them 4-2. He gets two more assists but still the goals won't come. Sami tells him to be patient, that it will happen, that his first season was the same thing.

He can't wait though, it's driving him mad, and when he tells this to Iker one night when they're lying in bed Iker just rubs his back and kisses his bare shoulder and tells him there's nothing he can do, he just has to wait for it to happen.

Then it's early December and El Clasico time and Cesc spends the week leading up to it throwing up after every practice. The morning before match day Iker asks him if he wants to be left out of the squad due to illness but he tells him no without a seconds hesitation. This is something he'll have to get over, playing against the first team he ever loved, and that's how he finds himself standing in the tunnel, feeling awkward and out of place in his whites as Barcelona's eyes burn holes into his back.

Gerard turns and looks at him, purses his lips, and turns away without a word. He hasn't talked to him since he signed for Madrid and Cesc doubts he ever will get over it like some of their friends have. It seems like ages ago when Iker was kissing his cheeks and reassuring him everything between the two of the would be fine.

Then Gerard stops Iker, says something and Iker's jaw clenches and he hisses something through his teeth before walking away. Iker stops as he passes him, touches his forearm and kisses his cheek, and Cesc's a little bit stunned because there are cameras everywhere and he's never done that before. The burning sensation intensifies and even some of the players in front of him have turned around, eyeing him warily, sizing him up. He knows they think he's stupid for playing for a team he was raised to hate because of his boyfriend, that they want to teach him a lesson for what he did to Barcelona. Cesc just takes a deep breath and exhales.

Andres and Jordi slot two in within the first 15 minutes and Iker is screaming, rampaging against the defense for not doing their job. After that Jordi keeps looking at him, sneering, clearly showing his feelings about Cesc being a part of Real Madrid. Cesc ignores him and then Sami gets a header in from Xabi's corner in the 32nd minute and there's no time for sneering. They go into half time down by one and Zizou yells about defense and how they can't leave Iker to do it all by himself.

In the 57th minute there's a tackle against Marcelo that has him stretchered off and Cesc is seeing red. Piqué only gets a yellow and Cesc argues with the ref and gets himself a yellow card for arguing and a glare from Gerard but he doesn't care, that's his fucking friend and teammate that Geri just did that to. Cris takes the penalty they've been rewarded and easily ties the game. Busquets gets carded for diving and then Sergio and Pepe end up with cards from two obvious dives and Cesc is pissed at the refs for falling for Barcelona's bullshit. Despite all of this the match stays tied, until their 3 minutes into their 4 minutes of added time.

Cristiano passes to Gareth but Busi and Geri are closing in around him and he turns, passes to Cesc and he makes a run for it. It's all him and Pinto and he thinks 'what the hell' and kicks with everything he has in him, aims for the top right corner of the goal. 

Gareth is there first, grabbing him by the thighs and picking him up, screaming in his ear above the roar of the Bernabéu. Sami's laughing as he molds himself against Gareth's back, kisses Cesc's cheek and then buries his face in Gareth's shoulder as Xabi wraps himself around the three of them. Then Cris is there, beaming, tangling his fingers in Cesc hair and pressing their foreheads together and yelling 'you Culé bastard!' and Cesc looks at the delighted faces of his teammates, listens to the fans scream, and then at Iker, his captain, biting his lip around his face splitting smile at his first Real Madrid goal, his winning goal against Barcelona, the goal that puts them in first place in La Liga, ahead by two points. 

Cesc realizes this could be love.


End file.
